


A Place to Rest

by neveralarch



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: (mostly comfort), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Starscream needs a nap. To take a nap, he needs a berth...(Originally written as a tiny TF Con zine!)
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream
Comments: 37
Kudos: 213





	A Place to Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is the lightly edited/expanded version of a zine I gave away and/or traded at TF Con DC. Thanks to choomchoom for being so enthusiastic about zines and encouraging me to make my own!
> 
> This fic contains minor character injury and recovery from concussion-like symptoms.

Starscream was released from the medbay with his wings repaired, his balance recalibrated, and errors pounding in his processor.

“I'm _injured_,” he whined. “I’m injured and you’re throwing me into the corridor, alone and uncared for!“

“All of my berths are full,” said Hook, with a truly pathological lack of sympathy. “You weren’t the only one injured today, you were just the only one who decided to get stepped on by Superion.”

“He was under my control!” Starscream stomped his thruster, then wobbled sideways into the wall as he lost his footing. “My virus had him completely, completely, _Hook_, I’m _dizzy_.”

“Go lie down,” said Hook. “You’ll feel fine in a few hours. Now stop wasting my time, I have to rebuild Motormaster’s arms.”

Starscream looked glumly down the long, barren corridor. His quarters were on the top deck of the ship. Normally he loved the location, making a special point to brag about it whenever unworthy, sodden basement-dwellers were nearby. There were almost never leaks on the top decks. But the internal elevators had been out for an entire Earth month, and Starscream didn’t think he could manage any of the emergency ladders. He definitely didn’t want to risk flying and have to return to the medbay in disgrace when he crashed into a bulkhead.

Middle deck. Middle deck. Who lived on middle deck?

\---

“Hello, loyal soldier,” announced Starscream.

“Oh, no,” said Thundercracker, barely visible through the crack in the door. “What do _you _want?”

Starscream got his hand through the crack and pushed as hard as he could, until the door surrendered in the face of Starscream’s grim determination and began to slide back. Thundercracker watched with a look of powerless horror, even though he should be greeting Starscream with unfettered joy.

“I’m recharging here,” said Starscream. He stumbled forward, keeping himself upright by latching onto Thundercracker’s chest.

“You can’t—“ began Thundercracker, and then looked down at Starscream with a frown. “Screamer, you look awful.”

“I feel awful,” said Starscream. “That incompetent medical imposter Hook refused me a berth in medbay, and I need to lie down. Give me yours.”

“I’d love to,” said Thundercracker, good, dependable Thundercracker. Starscream had known he could rely on him. “But—“

“No buts!” Starscream took a deep vent and then pushed off Thundercracker’s chest, limping over to the hanging tarp that hid the berths from the rest of the room. “I am not staying upright for a single moment longer. That’s it. No discussion.”

“But— “ said Thundercracker, who apparently couldn’t bother with _listening_.

Starscream swept back the tarp to reveal Skywarp, absolutely covered in neon green goo, snoring away on _both _of the berths, which had been shoved together to allow Skywarp more room to sprawl.

“He was working on a new prank.” Thundercracker sighed. “Soporific glue gun. It exploded.”

Starscream looked down at the disgusting berths and their disgusting occupant. He was _not _going to lie down here.

“My processor hurts,” he said, pathetically.

“Come on.” Thundercracker patted Starscream’s shoulder almost comfortingly. “Let’s find you a berth.”

\---

They spent twenty fruitless minutes wandering the ship, looking for a place Starscream could lie down. The mess was too public; Starscream refused to offline his optics somewhere Ramjet could just wander into at any moment. Starscream still didn’t trust either ladders or his own thrusters, and Thundercracker was too scrawny to lift Starscream’s respectable one hundred and twenty tons. Soundwave didn’t have a spare berth, and Starscream would not, could not share with Rumble and Frenzy.

“Just make them sleep in your chest!” he said, calmly and reasonably. “_I _can’t sleep in your chest. Not that I’d want to, I’m a full-grown mech, not some sawed-off cassette with an annoying laugh and terrible taste in music. Soundwave, don’t you dare shut this door. Soundwave! Soundwave, my _processor hurts_!”

“Hey,” said Thundercracker, when Starscream was reduced to pounding the closed door and cursing Soundwave for being so easily offended, “do you still have those master keycodes?”

\---

Bliss. Utter bliss. The berth was thick and solid, the blankets were soft and warm, and the lumpy pillow was nevertheless exactly what Starscream needed to support his neck and his aching helm. He moaned happily and shut his optics off.

“Great,” said Thundercracker, sounding very far away. “Glad I could help. You’ll remember this next time you’re making the duty roster, right?”

“Gnhngk,” said Starscream, which he hoped Thundercracker would translate as ‘of course, you lovely peon’ even though it actually meant ‘fat chance, bozo.’

He wasn’t actually sure if Thundercracker replied. Starscream drifted in the glorious comfort of the berth for what could have only been a few minutes before suddenly there was someone leaning over him, puffing hot air through noisy, old-fashioned vents. Starscream onlined one optic.

“What are you doing in my berth?” demanded Megatron.

“I was _stepped on_,” mumbled Starscream. “You’re supposed to be on shift.”

“My shift ended two hours ago,” said Megatron, but he didn’t make any moves toward dragging Starscream out of berth. Starscream just offlined his optics again.

There was a noisy sigh, and then some grumbling, and then Starscream found his face pressed against Megatron’s chest, his legs bumping against Megatron’s shins, and Megatron’s arm draped over his shoulder to gently stroke his wing.

“Try not bait a combiner into crushing you next time,” said Megatron. “That was a disaster.”

“Superion was under my complete control,” said Starscream. Tried to say. It was very hard to speak when your mouth was mashed against someone else’s plating and you were lying in the most comfortable berth in the galaxy while someone petted your wings and rumbled their engine against your cheek.

“Never mind,” murmured Megatron. “Go to sleep.”

Begrudgingly, Starscream did. It was odd, he thought. His processor didn’t hurt at all now.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, you can share it on [DW](https://neveralarch.dreamwidth.org/104174.html), [Tumblr](https://neveralarch.tumblr.com/post/189160826629/a-place-to-rest-neveralarch-the-transformers), or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/neveralarch/status/1196633526508150784)!


End file.
